Meeting Your Life's Longings
by Arella1
Summary: "Come with me," he pleaded. "Come with me, Rose Tyler, because it's better with two and best with you."


_It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your life's longings._

_It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive._

~From 'Invitation' by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

* * *

It had taken him two hundred and thirty eight years to figure it out. Well, to figure out how to do it _safely_, anyway. That was only after fifty four years of trying and failing to convince himself he could continue without her. He was a selfish bastard, so he had to _see_. He had to make absolutely certain she was happy. There was a niggling, clawing fear in the back of his mind that he'd made a mistake. Because, if she wasn't-if she was anything less than blissful-he would never forgive himself. But, he'd do his not forgiving while snatching her back into the life to which she really belonged.

Now, here he was, on Bad Wolf Bay, staring at a cottage in the most garish (wonderful) shade of TARDIS blue. Something about the abode beckoned him, so straightening his bowtie, the Doctor marched up to the door and pushed the buzzer. Anticipation built in him to the point that he had to slam his self control back firmly into place. A quick look was all he was allowing himself. Surprisingly, the door swung open of its own accord. Curiously, he pulled his sonic screwdriver and scanned the frame. It showed nothing more than highly advanced security.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there resonating concrete?" a voice asked sardonically from the interior of the home.

Snapping out of his musings, he stepped cautiously into the house. Immediately, he was flabbergasted to see a multitude of paintings on the walls-all depicting scenes from his lives. Spinning, he saw they were in order, from him looking into the Untempered Schism forward. All the things he'd lived through-a millennium of life-all showcased in amazing colors and bold strokes. Each painting captured his attention-the emotion in them staggering. Unable to fully grasp what he'd found, he followed helplessly until he came to the last one. It was a portrait of him seeing the paintings a moment ago. So much detail went into it, he felt as though the image might move with him when he shifted. What was going on?

His life had exploded onto canvas in the most breathtaking display he'd seen. Unbidden, his eyes drifted back to the painting of Rose as a golden goddess as she commanded the Vortex. She was beautiful, but the image was painted fiercely, with anger and rage driving the artist. Beside it was a white lever room with his image pressed in anguish against the wall separating him from his pink and yellow companion. The Time Lord glanced between the two, wondering at the lack of paintings showcasing his tenth self's time with her. The pain on his tenth self's face was all too real and he had to look away.

"I was especially proud of that one," the voice spoke again.

Forcing his eyes away from the scenes of his life, he found himself looking at Rose Tyler, sitting at a table and offering tea. He shouldn't have been surprised.

"Hello," he whispered, sliding into the chair across from her and visually drinking her in.

She had let her hair grow into its natural honey blond and seemed to be wearing very little makeup. She was very much the same, otherwise, until he mustered the courage to meet her eyes. There was a broken, defeated resignation there that horrified him. His beautiful pink and yellow Rose had wilted.

"Hello," she returned; her smile miniscule, but genuine. It was a far cry from the one in his memories.

"Rose?" he asked, hating the lost and pleading tone his voice had taken, but not understanding what all this was.

Even after all this time-how long had it been for her?-she knew him well enough to hear what he hadn't said.

"I painted them," she said, tipping her head. "There're more, but these are the ones that mean the most, to me anyway."

She was so calm, so composed, that he at once felt uneasy. Rose had always had a spark of excitement about her that just begged to be shown the universe. It was only when she was completely composed and calm that they were really in a bind.

"Where is…" he floundered, not knowing what to call the human Doctor.

Dropping her eyes, Rose took a sip of her tea. A bitter twist of her lips had his brow furrowing.

"He's not here."

"At work?" and there was something sinister clenching his insides. Besides the paintings, there was nothing personal in the house.

"No. Well, maybe-I don't know, really. He's been not here for a long time," her words were flat, completely lacking emotion, and it was the scariest thing he'd ever heard.

Swallowing, he put down his tea. "Come with me?" It was the only thing he knew to say.

Something in her face shattered. Ducking her head, she pushed some of her hair behind her ear.

"I can't," she answered thickly.

Now there was an emotion swirling in her voice that told him she wanted more than anything for her answer to be different. A mauve flag went up in his mind.

"Why not?"

"Do you remember how I was that night we met Dickens? How young and so full of excitement I was?"

Her words mirrored what he'd been thinking a moment ago. Slowly, he nodded.

Looking up, she met his eyes, letting him see the tears in hers. His hearts tightened painfully and he felt a smoldering rage for whatever had hurt Rose this much. This went beyond a mistake and leaving her once more. There was very little of his Rose left.

"And that time on Falpor after we finally got your trainers back-remember how happy I was? Remember how I fairly _glowed_ with love for you?"

Clenching his jaw, he nodded again; because, she _had_ glowed for him. If ever he'd had doubts about her feelings for him, that night put them to rest. She'd laughed and smiled and her eyes reflected only _him_.

"Yes. I danced with you on the roof and we yelled at those kids still looking for the Great Nonyan. You took my breath away."

A pained smile touched her mouth again. "That's how I want you to remember me. I'm not that girl anymore, Doctor." She took a shaky breath. "And, I literally cannot run away with you this time."

"What?" he asked, but he didn't want to know. Because, Rose was crying now-silent tears slid down her face.

Pressing a few buttons on the armrest of her chair, she showed him. The chair lifted into the air and slid away from the table. Then, it hovered around to stop beside him. The Time Lord's face went blank with shock and denial. Rose was confined to a hover chair.

"I was on a mission for Torchwood with the human Doctor," she began to explain in a mechanic tone that told him she'd said the story so often it'd become routine. "It went wrong and I was captured and held for a hundred and eight days before the rescue team could get me out. By then, it was too late-I'd taken too many bursts of electricity and the last interrogation snapped my spinal cord. That time, I went too far into my mind and touched Bad Wolf's echo. Ever since, I've been able to see Timelines. Well, I get sucked into them, rather. Mostly, I see yours, but sometimes a few others."

Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on breathing. In his wildest nightmares, he'd never expected this and the agony washing over him was debilitating.

"Where was my clone?" he gritted out.

Folding her hands, she shrugged. "He left two months after I was rescued. I haven't seen him since."

Leaping up, he began pacing and gesturing wildly. Thoughts were racing through his mind faster than even he could catch. White hot rage filled him until he spun and gripped the back of his chair. The wood creaked under the force of his grip and he knew his carefully upheld mask of humanity had fallen. Space and Time Eternal spun in his eyes, churning there desperately vying to destroy the universe that had done this to his precious girl. When he raised his eyes, she was staring back, unafraid of his wrath.

"How could he leave you? He was _me_," he nearly shouted.

"_You're _very good at leaving me," she snapped back, before closing her eyes to calm herself. "He was human, Doctor; human and frail and weak sometimes. He felt guilty to the point that he couldn't even look at me. So, I'm glad he left rather than have him stay only to pity me; only to assuage his guilt."

Her voice was thick with everything she'd hidden while telling her story. The clone leaving must have destroyed her-whatever faith she had left in him. He wondered what it would be called if he killed the metacrisis. Murder or suicide?

"Where's Jackie?" he decided on a different topic. He needed to pull himself together and he had an inkling that nothing along his clone's lines would be what he wanted to hear.

Rose's determination and fierce independence fled as that patchwork sadness returned. "She and Dad died a while back. Tony comes to visit me a few times a year, though."

His fury stepped back a moment to allow grief and pain the stage. Staggering forward, he collapsed in front of her and pressed his head into her lap. The soft material of her skirt dampened with his emotions as he let everything he'd learn register. There was still a burning fury, but now the knowledge of what he'd condemned her to overwhelmed him. Slowly, she embraced him as best she could from the position, running a hand through his hair soothingly. His control disappeared as he sobbed out his heartswrenching apologies. This universe had destroyed her and he'd been the one to leave her here. He'd killed his Rose; plucked her petals and dumped them in a bowl in a pale imitation of what she had been.

"You saw me coming," he said hoarsely, clutching her legs and blinking away more tears at the knowledge that she couldn't feel it.

"Yes," she whispered, voice choked with simmering things he'd always been too afraid to catalogue. "Got out of bed to make tea for the occasion," she half-heartedly joked.

"What happens next?"

Her breathing hitched and her fingers curled in his hair, against his neck. "I don't know. I've never tried to see that far."

Raising his head, he met her eyes and gently took her hands. "I am an old, stupid man, Rose Tyler, and I am so tired of my mistakes hurting those dearest to me."

Freeing one hand, she held his cheek and brushed away the moisture with her thumb. "I am not blameless in this, Doctor."

The Time Lord held her palm against his face and marveled at the feeling of home she still gave him. "Come with me," he pleaded. "Come with me, Rose Tyler because it's better with two and best with you."

She dropped her hand to straighten his bowtie. "Doctor, I can't walk, never mind run. That wonderful, fantastic life you have has no room for someone who can't keep up. I'd be confined to the TARDIS, watching you swan off on adventures; maybe picking up other companions along the way. Don't ask me to do that." Wiping her eyes as her voice broke, she gave up on the futile action and buried her face in her hands to weep.

It was a devastating sight and the sounds she made splintered his hearts. Hesitantly, he stroked her hair back and tried to make her understand what he meant.

"Rose, my precious girl, I swear to you it won't be like that. I swear on Gallifrey-on, on chips and applegrass-that I won't do that to you."

Body shuddering and hands shaking, she slowly recovered herself enough to look at him. Hope was a dangerous thing. It had come close to killing her before. The Doctor saw the tiny spark in her eyes and felt his hearts lift ever so slightly. Dropping all of his barriers, he bared himself to her, wanting her to have faith just _once more_ in him. Her face softened as she studied him intently.

"Do you believe me?"

Hiccupping, she slowly nodded. "Yeah, yeah I do."

Batting down his exuberance, he made sure. "So, you'll come with me?"

Taking a deep, shaking breath, she closed her eyes again. "If I go with you, it won't be like before," she insisted.

Swallowing, he nodded when she looked at him. "I know."

"It _can't_ be, Doctor. I'll have nothing besides you and the TARDIS, so you won't be able to send me away if something happens." Brown eyes were deadly serious as they met green. "I know I'll never be as smart as you-or even come close-but I got a few degrees since you knew me. I'm not stupid and I deserve the right to make my own decisions about _my_ life. Is that something you can deal with?"

"I can't promise that I'll never mess up, Rose," he admitted, "but I will promise that I'll try."

Sitting back, she bit her lip and turned that over in her mind. For the Doctor, that was a big concession. The question was, though, was it enough? The nineteen year old Rose wouldn't have hesitated. She'd loved the Doctor and that was enough, full stop. So many years of her life had been lived without him now that she had to wonder if it was true anymore.

"This is three incarnations of you that's asked me to come with you," she whispered, because even if he'd never finish that sentence from so long ago, she _knew_ what the words were. She'd seen his life without her and how he'd fared.

Smiling, she finished, "I've only told you 'no' once. I don't intend on breaking that record."

Letting out a joyful whoop, he surged forward to yank her into his arms. She squeaked as he embraced her, lifting her from her chair and effortlessly supporting her weight. Unable to help it, laughter bubbled in her and spilled out, delighting the Time Lord. Her face lit like it so often had in his memories when he'd done something to particularly please her. She still looked at him as if there was nothing else she would possibly care to see.

"I still love you," she said, her face pressed against his neck as he flopped back onto his chair.

"I know," he answered, just as softly and so gratefully. "I'm sorry for everything, my Rose."

They were silent for a long while, just basking in each other's embrace.

"I was angry with you for longer than I care to remember," she admitted. He felt her throat work to swallow heavily against her emotions. "I was angry with everything after the doctors said there was nothing else they could do. For a long time I wanted to die."

His breath stuttered at that confession and his arms tightened around her. "Tell me?"

So, she did. She told him about the years after his departure and how she and the metacrisis had only just worked through some of their issues when she'd been captured. She told him about her torture and her delusions during that time; about being rescued and the psych ward. The story of her years without him wasn't happy, but she opened up to him nonetheless. Finding the ability to see his Timeline was about the only thing that kept her going sometimes. She knew he was out there being fantastic and she wanted a small piece of that life again. So, she painted scenes she could see meant something to him. She painted his life and through her brushes and love, came to know who he truly was.

When she'd run out of stories, it was his turn. He told her about what he'd become without her and about regenerating; about the eternity spent looking for a way back. He spoke of Amelia Pond and the crack in her wall.

"Once we get back to our universe, we need to swing by and fix that situation, actually," he murmured. "I told her five minutes, but I needed to make sure the TARDIS was fine and then I got a lead on what I'd been working on."

"Finding a way back to me?" she asked, and felt his smile as he kissed her hair.

"Yes, finding a way back to you _safely_. What do you want to take with you?"

Stirring, Rose reached into his pocket to retrieve a pen and pad, ignoring his amused look. Once she'd jotted down her list, she returned the items to him and raised her eyes to his.

The Doctor was smiling and carefully pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. Standing, he cautiously returned her to her chair and playfully poked her nose.

"Don't wander off. I'll be right back with a transdimensional suitcase."

Chuckling, she agreed and watched as he strode purposefully out the door. Maneuvering her chair to her room, she packed her toiletries and her intimates quickly. She hesitated in front of the rows of medicines her condition had dictated.

"Don't worry about those," the Doctor said quietly from behind her.

In two strides, he was beside her, squeezing her hand. "The TARDIS has much more advanced medicine and I have an idea that may just turn out to be brilliant."

Relieved, she nodded and handed him her small bag. He stored it in the suitcase that never seemed to fill. When he gestured at her paintings, she shrugged.

"I am quite fond of them, but they're of your life, Doctor. It's kind of stalkerish, now that I think about it," she blushed.

A beaming grin split his face as he chuckled, not offended in the least. "Oh, I want to see every one of them. You're quite talented, you know."

So, he packed up all the paintings carefully before they exited the house for the final time. She'd left a note for Tony, but that was all the loose ends she had in this universe. When they were in front of the TARDIS, she choked and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Is it stupid that I'm so scared?" she asked him, one hand reaching out to stroke the beloved box.

Green eyes soft, he shook his head. "No, I'm feeling quite a bit scared myself, Rose Tyler." Then he opened the doors for her. "She's glad you're home."

Pleased, she entered and blinked in awe at the new layout. "Oh, she's beautiful!"

Elated, he turned to shut the door, but what he had been about to say died on his tongue. In the distance, he could see a man in a blue suit with fantastic brown hair watching them closely. The man gave a sad smile and nodded to him. Rage filled the Doctor and with a quick move, he slammed the doors. Spinning, he set aside Rose's suitcase and clapped his hands.

"Yes, I'm fond of the new design. Now, lock that chair of yours, Rose Tyler and hang on."

She beamed, gripping the edge of the console. "Where are we going once we get to our universe?"

An impish light shown in his eyes as he threw a lever. "Oh, just you wait."

Turns out, he was sneaking her onboard a Chula ambulance that was sitting dormant in a field. It was actually very near the one a certain captain would steal sometime in the future. The nanogenes on that ambulance had never seen a human, either. What the Doctor hadn't quite counted on was the little healers to take one glance at his superior genes and decide to patch Rose up according to his blue print. It was obvious to the nanogenes that she was injured gravely and that he wasn't.

It really shouldn't have shocked him when Rose gasped and scrambled for his hand. He, of course, didn't know what was happening besides the vague hope that the nanogenes were curing her. A moment later, her mind exploded into awareness beside him and she suddenly became a multi-dimensional being the likes of which he hadn't seen since his unfortunate regeneration.

When the nanogenes subsided and Rose was standing on her own rather shaky legs, tears poured from her eyes.

"I can _feel_ you," she whispered.

A slow, delighted grin curled his lips. "Rose Tyler, you impossible thing."

He had so much to show her, and now their forevers finally matched. Mirroring his look, she squeezed his hand.

"Run!"

* * *

**AN: **I hope that it wasn't too sappy for you. I could have taken it much darker, but it's supposed to be a oneshot and I didn't want it to drag. If there's any confusion, this takes place just after the Doctor meets Amy for the first time. He puts on decent (for him) clothes since he's going to see Rose, but hasn't jumped back to take care of Prisoner Zero, yet. I figured if nanogenes can make a freaking gas mask grow out of someone's face, they can do pretty much anything. Let me know what you think!


End file.
